


Lost Dog, Reward

by shadowen



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Avengers Movies RPF
Genre: Challenge Response, Community: intoabar, Fluff, Gen, I REGRET NOTHING, Prompt Fic, everything is pizza dog and nothing hurts, this is adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowen/pseuds/shadowen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Into a Bar challenge on LJ/DW:</p><p>Lucky walks into a bar and meets... Samuel L. Jackson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dog is lost.

Well, not _lost_ lost. Dog knows where he is, why he is, which way is home.

What he does not know is which way is Pizza Guy, and that makes a bad feeling in is his belly. Dog is supposed to take care of his people, but Pizza Guy is always going away and comes back smelling like bad people and _hurt_. He would not have so much hurt if Dog went with him. This time he was with Dog, but now he is not with Dog and Dog cannot find him and what if Pizza Guy is hurt _right now_ and it is all Dog’s fault.

Dog makes a sad noise and sniffs the ground around him one more time and maybe...? No. No Pizza Guy.

There is a smell that is a little bit like home, like the thing that home-people drink on the roof, and Dog follows it into an open door, into a cool, dark place with good food smells and a smooth floor that feels nice on his tired paws. Pizza Guy is not here, but it is a good place and Dog wants to rest.

“Well, how about that.” A man leans down toward Dog. “Hi there, buddy. You lost?”

Yes! Yes, Dog is lost. The man has a big smile and a hat and a nice person smell, and maybe he can help Dog! He holds out a hand, and Dog sniffs it politely, wagging his tail. Yes, definitely nice person. Dog sits down in front of him and makes _help_ noise.

“Hey!” There is another man. He smells like food and the thing home-people drink, but he is loud and mad at Dog. “Get outta here! Go on!”

Dog makes himself small. If he is small, then maybe the loud man will not hit him. Nobody has hit him since he saved Pizza Guy, but there are still bad people who hit dogs.

“Hold up, man. He’s alright.” The nice man makes the hand that means _stop_. “He’s just lost, aren’t you, buddy?”

Dog leans closer to the nice man. Maybe he will not let the loud man hit Dog.

“Sorry, Mister Jackson, but he’s gotta go outside. The boss’ll kill me if he sees a dog in here,” the loud man says, but not so loud. He doesn’t smell mad, anymore. Dog gives him a hopeful look.

“Your boss don’t like dogs?” The nice man ruffles Dog’s ears, and Dog sits up, because that is a good feeling. “What kind of asshole doesn’t like dogs? And you’re a good dog, aren’t you buddy? Yeah you are. You’re a good dog.”

He crouches down next to Dog and scratches under Dog’s chin just right. Dog wags his tail and licks the nice man’s face to let him know that this is very good, and the man laughs.

“Aw, yeah, man. This pup’s alright.” The nice man tugs at the thing around Dog’s neck that is supposed to be very important. “Says your name’s Lucky. Now what dumbass gave you a stupid name like that?”

Pizza Guy calls Dog Lucky, just like the Bad Men called him something else and people call Pizza Guy those other things. But Pizza Guy is Pizza Guy, and Dog is Dog. He does not know what is the nice man.

“Same dumbass that let a sweetheart like you wander off, I guess.” The nice man is scratching him all over, and Dog is very happy. Dog is also sad because the nice man is not Pizza Guy.

There is a smell. Dog perks up. Person smell, home smell, right smell!

“There you are!”

Yes! Good! Happy! Dog jumps on Pizza Guy and licks his stupid face and runs around him barking and jumps on him again and barks and runs and jumps because Dog is happy.

“What the hell, dog?” Pizza Guy shoves him off, but he is smiling. He scruffles Dog’s fur and rubs his ears, and Dog licks his stupid face a lot. “Did you miss me, huh? Huh, boy?” He grabs Dog’s face and says in his serious voice, “Don’t run off like that, okay? You’re gonna get lost.”

Dog will not run off. Dog will never run off. He cannot wag his tail hard enough because he is _so_ happy.

“Nice dog you got there,” the nice man says.

“Yeah, he’s pretty great.” Pizza Guy looks at the nice man, looks again. Dog licks his face because the nice man is nice but Pizza Guy should be paying attention to Dog.

“Maybe you oughta watch out for him a little better.”

“Uh, yeah. Maybe. Probably.” Does Pizza Guy know the nice man? Dog does not care. He noses at Pizza Guy’s hair. Where has he been? He does not smell like bad people or hurt, and he is here now, so everything is good. “What, Lucky? You done with your big adventure? Ready to go home and get some dinner?”

Dinner. Food. Yes! Dog makes a happy sound, and Pizza Guy stands up.

“Nice to meet you, Lucky,” the nice man says, and Dog licks his nice face to tell him _thank you for being nice_. The nice man laughs, and Dog follows Pizza Guy out of the cool, dark place.

“D’you make a friend?” Pizza Guy says.

Dog nips at his hand and wags his tail, because Pizza Guy is his friend and people are nice and they are going home.


	2. Like Humans Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is all Ralkana's fault, and I'm not sorry.

Clint tried to do the responsible dog owner thing, he really did.

He got the food and the dishes and the stupid little poop-scooper thing and all the other crap the ASPCA said was _essential_ to a happy, healthy dog. It wasn’t his fault the damn dog insisted on knocking the dish over and eating his food off the floor, or that he turned out to be some kind of genius dog who could let himself out through the fire escape to go do his business. To be fair, it might have been his fault that the dog’s diet wound up about forty percent dog food and sixty percent whatever Clint ate, but he wasn’t hearing any complaints.

He got a leash, too, since Lucky didn’t need to get in trouble just because his person didn’t like rules. He was gonna use it, too. Clint was gonna go for walks with his dog, like a real, functional person, because Lucky deserved half a chance at a decent life, even if he’d been dumb enough to land in Clint’s corner.

But no battle plan survives contact with the enemy, and the leash didn’t fare much better.

“Look, if you wanna go outside, this is the trade-off.”

Clint didn’t know how it was possible for a golden retriever to look skeptical, but that was definitely the expression he was getting.

“C’mon, dog. It’s not that bad. See?” He looped the leash around his own neck to demonstrate how easy and comfortable it was, and, yeah, no, it really wasn’t.

The dog definitely wasn’t convinced.

“Just for a minute, okay? We’ll just go around the block and come back, just to get used to it. How about that?”

He edged forward on the floor, and Lucky ducked his head, not moving away but clearly very not happy about this plan. Clint clicked the catch into place and stood, letting the leash trail on the floor.

Lucky stared up at him with such abject, unabashed misery, Clint kind of wanted to cry.

“I’m sorry about this, buddy,” he said. “Rules is rules.”

Maybe Lucky would get used to the leash, he thought. Maybe they’d get out the door, and he’d be so distracted by all the smells and stuff that he’d forget all about being tied up.

Maybe?

Lucky slunk down the hallway to the stairs. He slunk through the lobby and out the front door. He slunk down the sidewalk and didn’t sniff at anything, even the puddle of melted ice cream in the gutter. When he started to go one way and Clint pulled him in another, he gave the softest, saddest, most pitiful little whine in the history of dog noises, and Clint absolutely could not stand it anymore.

He dropped to one knee on the dirty concrete and immediately unhooked the leash. “I’m sorry, pal. I’m so sorry. We’re not gonna do this again, okay?”

Lucky paused, looking from the leash to Clint like he wasn’t sure if this was a trick. His tail gave a short, hesitant wag, and Clint grinned, scratching him behind the ears.

“Yeah, you’re not gonna run off, are you? You’re a good dog. Good pizza dog.”

Lucky answered by wagging his tail in earnest and giving him a sloppy, wet kiss on the mouth.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough of that.” Clint pushed him off and stood. Lucky ran one tight circle around Clint’s legs and then sat down on his feet, panting expectantly and thumping his tail on the ground. “You’re a mess, dog. You know that?”

Lucky barked and pushed at Clint’s knee with his nose.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Alright, come on. May as well get a real walk in, since we’re out here.”

Lucky trailed along beside him, never more than inches away, like the world’s most exuberant shadow. Clint figured the dog probably knew best what he needed for health and happiness, anyway.


End file.
